


hanging gardens

by kokiri



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous Relationships, For a Friend, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8101249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokiri/pseuds/kokiri
Summary: according to accounts, the gardens were built to cheer up nebuchadnezzar's homesick wife, amytis.





	

**Author's Note:**

> dear cat, i hope i did them justice!!!

“Thirty… forty… Fuck, Jihoon, do you have a dime?”

Jihoon stared at Junhui over the top of his glasses – or, rather what he could see of Junhui, as he was currently curled up in a blanket underneath Jihoon’s bed. Not on top of his bed. Not even beside his bed. Literally underneath his bed. That was one of the perks of living in a dorm, Jihoon figured, at least it was a perk for Junhui. He always did like to make a cocoon around himself when the going got tough, and the obnoxiously high beds that were much too difficult to pull apart and lower were very useful in that regard.

“I have been studying for the last three hours. And what are you doing? You’re counting change. What could you possibly need change for? It’s literally midnight.” Jihoon’s vision was a little blurry from how hard he had been straining to read the microscopic text in his Old Testament book. What a waste of three credit hours. Who gave a shit about King Nebuchadnezzar, honestly? Not Jihoon.  

“I need change,” Junhui said slowly, because Jihoon was clearly the big idiot here, “because I want a cheese Danish.”

“Oh. I must have misheard you. See, I thought you said that you wanted a cheese Danish. But that would be silly, because the only cheese Danishes on campus are in the vending machine, in the science building, all the way across campus.”

“That’s right.”

“Oh,” Jihoon said. “Okay.” He turned back towards his book and pretended like Junhui did not exist.

“Come on, Jihoon, are you going to make me walk all the way across campus at midnight by myself?” Junhui asked. “Anyway, I need a dime! I need a dime or I can’t get my Danish.”

Jihoon was a strong person. He was a lighthouse in the storm of Junhui’s continuous silly whims and fancies. He was not going to give in tonight. Because he had an exam tomorrow at eight in the morning and if he was being honest, the vast majority of his studying had actually been a whole lot of reading the same sentence thirty times in a row before finally deciding he did not care enough to attempt to understand, and then moving on. So no, he did not have a dime. And he was indeed going to make Junhui walk all the way across campus by himself.

“Junhui,” he said. Come on, Jihoon. Just say _no._ “You may partake of the money jar.” God dammit! “And I’ll go with you to get your Danish, but you better make it fast! No detours to get root beer from the gym.”

Junhui stood up too fast, bashed his head against the metal frame of the bed, and much like a feral creature acting on pure adrenaline and bloodlust alone, grabbed the money jar from off of Jihoon’s desk and dug out exactly one dime.

Some fresh air would probably do the both of them good. They had been cooped up in Jihoon’s dorm all day – which was fine for the first couple of hours, as there was a television, and a mini fridge full of water bottles that were not-so-secretly full of vodka, and the school had finally turned the heating system on so the student body wasn’t slowly freezing to death anymore. But Junhui was prone to stir craziness and it rubbed off on Jihoon more than he cared to admit. All of Junhui’s moods did.

“This is the part,” Junhui said, “where I comment that it’s cold and you reach over and hold my hand.”

“There is nothing romantic about going to get a cheese Danish from the science building at midnight,” Jihoon said flatly. There would be no handholding tonight. Jihoon could not afford to expend any emotional resources wondering why Junhui liked to his hold his hand so much. Or why they were spending so much time together lately. Or if Junhui was actually kind of his boyfriend and everyone knew it but Jihoon.

“You don’t think so?” Junhui asked.

“Nope.”

“I think it’s sweet that you’re walking with me because you know I’m scared to walk around by myself at night,” he said.

“That’s just common courtesy. I’m not a bad guy. You would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

Junhui nodded affirmatively. “I would do anything for you,” he said lightly, as if that wasn’t a little too lofty and intimate for Jihoon to hear without stuttering out a string of nonsensical gibberish in response.

They reached the science building, still not holding hands, and Jihoon had to admit that he could fully understand why Junhui would not want to be here by himself in the dark at midnight. They walked up a flight of stairs to the second floor where the only sound was the gentle hum of the vending machine. Junhui carefully slid the coins into the slot and pressed the appropriate button, forehead pressed against the class while he watched the snack fall to the bottom of the machine. He made a quiet, contended noise as he leaned down and grabbed the Danish and opened just one corner so he could pinch off a bite and save the rest for when they were back in Jihoon’s dorm.

“Hey,” he said.

“What?” Jihoon reached up and wiped a few crumbs off of the corner of Junhui’s mouth. “You’re hopeless. No manners.”

“I want to show you something,” Junhui said, grabbing Jihoon’s hand. It totally did not count as handholding, Jihoon told himself. There was a specific purpose and it was not to be boyfriends! “Over here –” He pointed straight ahead, as if it did them any good. It was nearly pitch black save the soft light emitted from the vending machine. “There’s a window and if you open it, you can climb on the top of the first floor. That is, if the lock is still broken. Let’s go see.”

Jihoon did not want to go see. But he trailed behind Junhui anyway, smiling just a little at the pure excitement in Junhui’s voice when he realized that the window lock was still broken. He pushed it up and open and climbed over the windowsill, tugging Jihoon’s arm behind him.

“I guess a few minutes won’t hurt,” Jihoon said. He climbed over the windowsill as well and landed so hard on the concrete of the roof that it made his ankles feel like nails were being driven though them.

Junhui sat on the ground, pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head, and laid on his back.

“It’s freezing cold,” Jihoon commented uselessly. He sat down. Junhui grabbed his hand again. It was different this time. Less purposeful. More just because.

“Then I’ll hold your hand until its warm,” Junhui said. “Hey, you wanna know something Jihoon? I really meant it. What I said. That I would do anything for you. I know that you do a lot for me – I mean a lot that you don’t want to do. Like walking with me at midnight for a snack. And sitting on a roof in the middle of winter when it’s freezing cold. You know. That kind of stuff.”

“I am absolutely aware of all the things I do for you that I would rather not do,” Jihoon said.

Junhui smiled at him, and held their hands out just to look at them. “It’s like those gardens. In our readings.”

“What? You’ve actually done the readings? You’re so full of shit, no you haven’t. I don’t believe it.”

“Yeah. Old King Nebuchadnezzar built those hanging gardens for his wife because she was so sad that she had to live in the desert and she missed the mountains.” Junhui could have ended it there and let it be a perfectly sweet, sincere moment. But he couldn’t, true to his form. “But hey – how do you think he got the plants to hang upside down anyway?”

“Junhui, I knew you were full of shit! Our textbook clearly explains that the plants weren’t hanging upside down. The word for hanging is actually supposed to be more like overhanging. Like, the plants hang over the sides— God, you really are hopeless. But… that’s sweet. That makes me feel… happy?”

“Yeah? You know, history’s not my thing. It’s too… real? But the hanging gardens is like a love story. At least it is to me. Kind of like a novel.” Junhui reached inside his pocket with his free hand and grabbed his Danish. He pinched off another bite and offered it to Jihoon.

Jihoon shook his head. “I hate sweet things, you know that.” He moved just a little closer against Junhui’s side, knees pulled up to his chest. Despite their best effort, no heat was generated between their hands, but they kept their hands locked together anyway. Jihoon figured maybe they could come back here another day, when the sun was out, when it wasn’t so miserably cold.

Maybe they would sit together, hand in hand, and Jihoon could visualize a hanging garden on top of the science building against the backdrop of a melancholy winter sunset, a small comfort in their world of one million other important things they needed to be doing instead.

A memento of a home that didn’t exist, a home that was mostly just metaphorical and hypothetical or whatever the correct term was – Junhui would probably know.

Jihoon would have to remember to ask him later - what was the correct phrase for a home that didn't technically exist, a home that was just an idea between the two of them? If anyone would know how to verbalize such a silly concept, it would be Junhui. But maybe it wasn't so complicated. Maybe it didn't matter if it existed or not.

Maybe it was just home, regardless. 


End file.
